Thistle and Down
by LadySilver
Summary: After Danny is attacked, Scott realizes he's put off the inevitable long enough. Scott/Danny, past Scott/Allison.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This story was written for the Teen Wolf ficathon hosted by portions_forfox on LJ in response to the prompt: Danny/Scott, past Scott/Allison, this is the skin I live in. This is not related to any of my previous stories. Thanks always for reading and commenting._

_The full story is three chapters and features no content more titillating than a kiss.  
_

**Thistle and Down**

by LadySilver**  
**

Allison came to sit with Scott in the hospital, a fact which surprised him because he expected her to be jealous or bitter or angry, and all he saw was concern. She'd gotten tougher over the past couple months, trading in more of her insecurity for a straighter posture and a stronger step, and there were times he didn't recognize her. Yet, when she pulled a chair up next to his and sat down across from Danny's bed as if she belonged there too, Scott had to swallow down a sudden lump in his throat.

She wore a loose dark pink sundress with white flowers scattered across it and pink flip-flops in deference to the summer heat, and she looked so casual and carefree that if it weren't for how she held herself, Scott could almost believe that no darkness had ever touched her life. She smoothed her skirt across her lap when she sat down, then crossed her legs and settled back. They sat together for a long time, their hands slowly creeping closer until they locked together with entwined fingers.

As if that was the signal she'd been waiting for, Allison gave Scott's hand a tight squeeze. "He's going to be OK," she assured him. "I overheard the nurses talking.

Scott nodded dumbly, sure that she was telling the truth—he'd overheard the nurses too-, but not ready to believe it until Danny said so himself. His boyfriend lay on the hospital bed, as he had for the last day. No one was sure why he wasn't waking up. He'd suffered no more than minor scrapes in the attack, and the MRI had turned up no signs of a head injury or any other internal injury. The doctors had no medical reason they were sharing for Danny's coma, and that only made it all worse because no reason meant that any attempt at a treatment was, at best, random.

The worst part, Scott thought, was that he couldn't tell the doctors or police what really happened.

"Was it a werewolf?" Allison prompted, breaking into the whirlwind of _what ifs_ spinning through his mind. She leaned closer to him, tilting their heads together so they wouldn't have to speak so loudly. Though there was constant activity outside the room door—footsteps and fading conversations and the squeaking wheels of so many carts—it was all muted as if it belonged to some other world. "Is there a new Alpha in town? A new pack?"

Scott dragged a hand through his already mussed brown hair, trying to make sense of what had happened. In defiance of his efforts, his hair promptly flopped back into his face. He'd told a version of the story a couple times, modifying details as necessary depending on whom he was talking to. Telling the truth at last felt weird, like this was the story he was making up; he had to force himself not to pare out the details.

"Not a werewolf," he said with a shake of his head. "We were swimming at the old quarry, a-and it came up out of the water, and it—" He had to stop to compose himself, Allison's tightened grip on his hand helping as it always had.

Scott closed his eyes. He could picture the moment perfectly. He and Danny had gone swimming, seeking relief from both the sweltering heatwave that had hit Northern California and the curious eyes of friends who knew both too much and too little about the boys and their histories. They had been taking turns dunking each other and the walls of the quarry rang with their laughter.

Danny stood up, his tanned skin wet and glistening. Under sunlight filtered through a fine cloud layer, Scott had been struck by a moment of surrealness, that this was who he was and this was who he loved. That everything that had happened in _his_ life had brought him here. A mere six months before, Danny had been little more than jerk-Jackson's jerk friend, and Scott had been certain that he'd be stuck going to Senior prom with Stiles. Then there'd been werewolves and Allison, and his life had spun so far out of control one direction, that when it went careening back the other he'd stopped trying to make sense of things and just gone along for the ride. So, seeing Danny standing there waist deep in the water, caught half way through a laugh had stunned him.

He'd been so enraptured in that moment that he hadn't heard the thing rushing through the water. His first warning was Danny's eyes widening in horror. His second was the change in water pressure on his chest and legs as the thing reared up behind him. His third was a slam of hatred that rocked him forward. They'd all happened on top of each other, and he'd only pulled the sequence apart because of how often he'd played that scene over while listening to Danny's steady, unwaking breaths.

"He was trying to save me," Scott continued, unbelieving. "H-he knocked me out of the way. It grabbed him and pulled him under. By the time I got to him…." He trailed off, the rest of the story evidenced right in front of them. He'd yanked Danny from the monster's limbs and dragged him out of the water. The gray rocks were sun-warmed, crumbling and chipping to make for unsteady footing. Scott had gotten Danny deposited onto the blanket they'd spread out earlier for a picnic. Danny had been unconscious, laying limp and pallid against the red weave, though breathing just fine. He hadn't inhaled any water nor was he bleeding. Nothing had changed since. "The thing was huge," Scott concluded with a widening of his eyes. "I've never seen anything like it."

He shouldn't have been surprised, Scott thought, that the worlds had collided again. He just wasn't expecting … he dragged his fingers through his hair again… what? For it to happen so soon? He didn't know why, but he kind of thought that he and Danny would get some time to themselves before all hell broke loose. He should have known better.

"Scott, you did everything you could," Allison told him.

"He was trying to protect me," Scott repeated, his vision fixed on nothing, the words ones he had to say but couldn't accept. "He thought I was the one in danger."

"Was the thing after you?"

Scott had to think about the answer, untangling the complexities of the emotion he'd felt from the monster. At last he said, "Yeah." He drew a breath, exhaled. "It was. It didn't want me there. I don't think it's going to stop, either. It felt—" he searched for the right word, and finally settled on, "determined."

"Like it's picked you as a target and isn't going to stop until you're dead?" Allison clarified.

"Exactly like that," Scott replied. He didn't add that kids went swimming in the quarry all the time and no one had ever been attacked. Whatever the thing was, it must have targeted him because he was a werewolf. He figured Allison would have already worked that out on her own.

Allison opened her mouth to say something and closed it again, her eyes cutting away. A dot of stray mascara marred the smooth skin next to her nose and her dark brown hair hung loose and straight around her face, like she had been interrupted before she could finish getting ready for the day. When she spoke next, her words were schooled, careful. "Does he know?"

So many things Allison could have meant with that question, Scott thought: Does he know what attacked him? Does he know how much I love him? Does he know that it's time to _wake up._ Allison could have meant any of those, but she didn't.

Scott shook his head, slumping forward in the seat. "No. I was afraid I'd lose him, too."

"You didn't lose me because you're a werewolf," she pointed out, softly.

He twisted around, raised his eyebrows at her. As far as he was concerned, that was exactly why he'd lost her.

"There was always too much stacked against us," she explained. "The stuff with Peter and Kate and Derek, that would have all happened anyway. Didn't you ever wonder why my family came to Beacon Hills when we did?"

Scott's brow furrowed because it never had occurred to him to wonder. He'd been so in awe of her presence that he'd never thought about the timing. Funny how stupid things that should be obvious could be so easy to miss.

"My family has been Hunters for generations," she continued. "I was always going to be one too, though I think my dad would have liked for me to graduate high school first." She chuckled on the last, a short sound that grated against the ambient noises of the room. With her free hand, she captured the hem of her skirt and began twisting it. "Yeah, the werewolf thing didn't help, but really … it only sped up the inevitable." She tried to offer a smile, but it didn't sit right on her lips.

Scott missed seeing how she would glow when they talked. He regretted that he'd taken that from her. "I'm sorry," he offered.

"For what? Moving on with your life?" She scoffed. "I'm happy that you did. Danny's a lucky guy."

A blush rose in Scott's cheeks. In the short weeks since he and Danny had officially started dating, he'd worried more than once that he was violating some unspoken rules about how to do a second relationship. It wasn't like his first one had gone so smoothly. At least-at least he and Allison had managed to break up without becoming enemies, and it wasn't just his self-preservation speaking. Still, he liked knowing they could both remember their time together fondly; that's how he wanted to remember his first love, not like how his mom remembered her marriage.

"We'll find it," Allison said, returning to the reason she was here at all. She dropped the hem of her skirt and smoothed the twisted material, her hand coming to rest flat and definitive against her thigh. "We'll find it and we'll kill it. But, Scott...?"

"I have to tell him," Scott replied. "I will. When he wakes up." _If he wakes up_, he thought, his gaze ticking briefly in the direction of the nurses' station where he could hear his mom on the phone with one of the labs, trying to get answers that anyone could work with.

"He needs to know what's going on," Allison pointed out. "And we need to know what he saw. Anything. Any detail he can give. He won't tell you if he thinks you won't believe him."

Scott nodded, frowning. He couldn't deny what Allison was saying, had already started to understand the necessity before her arrival. Hearing it from her only pushed him out of the rut of an internal debate.

In order to keep Danny safe from monsters, he'd have to let him know they were real.


	2. Chapter 2

The afternoon wore on and turned into evening. Scott traded places with Danny's parents and consented to go home and get some sleep, even though he knew that being so far from Danny's side would make any such task fruitless. He ended up sitting bonelessly in front of the television.

It might have been on.

All he saw, over and over, was Danny getting sucked under the water, the rush of undertow so hard that it jerked Scott off his feet and submerged him for critical seconds. He saw Danny's hand, reaching back for him as he blinked water from his eyes.

He heard the gurgle of Danny's last breath as it was yanked from his lungs and the long, long silence until Danny inhaled again.

He woke up, still splayed across the couch. His mother must had chosen not to disturb him, though she had definitely been home. Her scent in the house was fresh. Since he couldn't hear her, he figured that she had gone down to the diner after a shift for a cup of coffee to unwind, and a part of him was relieved to have missed her because he wasn't sure he could handle talking to her. He showered and dressed, throwing on the same pair of jean shorts he'd worn the day before and a white t-shirt that reeked of fabric softener. After shoveling a bowl of cereal down his throat, he checked the messages on his phone. Stiles. Allison. Jackson. "How is he?" "Any change?" "Did you find anything out?"

"No change," he typed back. "No. Not yet."

As soon as visiting hours allowed, Scott returned to the hospital. "Any change?" he asked the Mahealanis when he stepped into the room, the question feeling awkward in his mouth since he'd already had to answer it so much.

Mrs. Mahealani was a short, stout woman with wide, brown eyes and a smile she had given to her son. She stood up when she saw Scott, gifting him with a flash of that smile despite the exhaustion draped over her. "Not yet," she replied. "It's too soon." She paused and cupped her hands to her chest. "I believe we will see the turnaround today." She had on a red and orange print blouse that flowed when she moved, like she'd never been able to stop dancing despite her official retirement from the stage.

Mr. Mahealani had been dozing with his head against the wall. He wore an orange Polo and a pair of khaki shorts that were stained with splatters of paint. At the sound of his wife's voice, he blinked himself awake. "That's good enough to take to the bank," he responded, softly. He always spoke softly, as if trying to ease his thoughts into the world. Scott thought it was a consequence of being so big. Mr. Mahealani was the source of Danny's height and, once upon a time, his build. Though he'd lost a lot of tone, he still had a physical presence that he seemed to feel needed downplaying, and he did it so well that Scott kind of forgot how tall Danny's dad was as soon as he was out of sight.

"Really?" Scott asked, shooting a skeptical glance at his boyfriend who remained persistently, stubbornly unconscious. His color was better today; Danny looked more like he was sleeping and less like he was dying. More importantly, he smelled better. There'd been a rancidness to Danny's scent the day before that Scott hoped was residual from the water-monster and not a sign of Danny's health. That smell was all but gone, only traces remaining that Scott was sure he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been searching for them. "OK," he concluded. It might be wishful thinking-it probably was wishful thinking-but he couldn't take the new evidence as anything less than a promise.

He and the Mahealanis exchanged a few more words, mostly commiseration about what was going on. Then there were hugs and assurances that no one was to blame, a quick sketch of who would be where and when in case there was news.

And then Scott was once again alone.

He was left with his thoughts, which rapidly took on all new levels of paranoid analysis to the tune of beeping from Danny's heart monitor and the syncopation of his real heartbeat. What if the water creature couldn't be identified? Or stopped? What if it had meant to come after Scott specifically and not just because he was a supernatural creature in the wrong place? What if it had lured them to the quarry? What if it had done something supernatural to Danny?

"_Too soon_," he heard from out in the hall. _"Can't make an accurate diagnosis,"_ someone else said, _"Have to wait and see." _Snippets of conversation came from all over the facility, and they might not have been about Danny, but Scott knew they were. It was all anyone could talk about. The doctors talked to each other, to themselves, to experts on the phone. No one had any answers. Each snippet squeezed tighter the knot to Scott's stomach; he dug into the chair's cushion with his claws, unable to keep them back. _"Have to think about the long term_-" one of the doctors started, before Scott deliberately stopped listening. He was going to side with Mrs. Mahealani. She thought there'd be a turnaround today, and Scott couldn't imagine Danny letting his mother down.

Danny would wake up only to discover that his boyfriend had been keeping, like, the world's biggest secret from him. Scott had known from the beginning that he would have to tell Danny about his lycanthropy. Eventually. Some secrets shouldn't be kept. But, some secrets needed to be held back until enough groundwork had been laid in the relationship to support them.

Scott had misjudged every step of the way with Allison, and he only hoped that he could do better this time. Danny needed to know. He just didn't think he could handle it if the knowledge pushed Danny away, too._ It's too soon_, Scott thought again, that one phrase seeming to be associated with every problem of the last day and a half. They hadn't had enough time together, and Scott had no idea how to go about telling. So many people in his life knew, but they had all found out. He had never had to tell anyone before. He gnawed on his lip while he listened to the rhythms of Danny's body, searching for any sign of improvement and trying to figure out the least frightening way to bring Danny all the way into his life.

Scott woke up with a start that nearly tumbled him off the chair he'd fallen asleep in. Someone had been in to pull shut the blinds on the windows, blocking out the late morning sunlight. Flowers had appeared on the bedside table, their aroma cloying and clashing with the antiseptic of the room. He wiped a thin line of drool from his mouth and sat up straighter, looking for what had awakened him.

Danny was still on the hospital bed, though now his head was turned toward Scott. His eyes opened, the brown deep and dark in the shadows of the room. The two boys blinked at each other.

"Danny," Scott breathed. He stumbled from his seat to land on the hard linoleum at the bedside. "You're awake."

"Ouch," Danny said with a cringe. "That had to hurt." His voice was rough from disuse, and his eyes looked heavier than usual, like it was taking immense effort to keep them open. Scott had never been so happy to see those eyes. He grimaced at Danny's concern since Danny was the one who had been injured. "I've been not awake?" he asked, lifting his head with effort to take in the hospital room and the flowers and Scott's disheveled appearance. His brow knit together as he put the evidence together, and then he collapsed back onto the pillow.

"Danny, I-" Scott started. Before he could say more, the door was pushed open and a nurse came in. Quickly, the room was filled with activity and Scott was exiled to the hall while nurses and doctors did their jobs.

It was late evening before the fuss died down and Scott was allowed back. Danny had the bed raised now, letting him sit up. A tray of half-touched dishes lay off to the side. Scott wrinkled his nose at the smells, fully understanding why Danny had been able to do little more than poke at the food.

"Not hungry?" Scott asked.

Danny offered a wry smile. He'd been allowed to change into a t-shirt and sweats and he looked so at ease stretched across the hospital bed with the sheet pulled up over him that, for a moment, Scott imagined that he'd walked into Danny's room at home, catching him on a lazy Sunday afternoon, nothing more.

"I'm waiting for the pizza dude," Danny replied. He glanced at his wrist, bare of its normal watch. As if he'd seen the time, he continued, "Dude shoulda been here twenty minutes ago. You'd think that for a guy who slept two days, he could at least make his delivery on time."

"You know if they're late, you don't have to pay," Scott said, playing along. "As far as sleeping beauty discounts go, it's a pretty good one." He grinned, relieved both that Danny was awake and that Danny was apparently uninjured. In fact, for someone who'd been through what he'd been through, Danny seemed to be in pretty good spirits, if still looking understandably drawn.

"Good." Danny patted his pockets, which came up empty of anything more substantial than a knot of thread. "Because I think I left my wallet somewhere?"

Scott closed his eyes for a long moment, remembering the pile of their clothes that they'd abandoned at the quarry. Both Danny's watch and wallet were among the discarded shorts and shirts. He really should have thought to go retrieve them. But the monster... Scott took a steadying breath. "Danny, what do you remember?"

Danny studied the blank stretch of white spread taut over his legs for moment, then shook his head. "Nothing."

At the tell-tale hitch in Danny's heartbeat, Scott set his jaw. Possibilities for his next sentence tumbled inside his mouth. He knew that whatever he said next he wouldn't be able to take back. Even if Danny laughed it off, if he could give it the appearance of an ill-timed attempt at humor, the thought would still be out there and eventually it would grow big enough to push them apart. Scott swallowed and rubbed his suddenly sweaty hands against his shorts. "You can tell the truth," he said. "Whatever you say, I'll believe you."

Danny's brow furrowed. "It all happened so fast," he insisted, shaking his head. His hair was mussed and flattened on one side from being wet when he arrived and then being slept on for nearly two days, and stubble had grown in all along his jawline. He still looked perfect. He massaged the back of his neck, but didn't take his eyes off his lap.

Impulsively, Scott lurched forward and caught Danny's lips with his. He had to, in case he never got the chance again later. Danny, somehow, must have been expecting the move. His head came up at exactly the right time so that their foreheads and noses aligned. Danny's fingers wound through Scott's hair, pulling Scott closer and even more off-balance than he already was. Only the fact that he was already half leaning across the bed kept him from toppling over, destroying the kiss. Danny's breath tasted of mint and chicken broth and strawberry jell-o, and it was all Scott could do not to finish crawling onto the bed and cover Danny's body with his own.

Too soon the kiss ended. Breathless, Scott moved so that he was perched on the side of the bed, far enough away that Danny couldn't easily pull him into a second round. His scalp still tingled pleasantly from where his boyfriend's fingers had pressed. "Danny?" he prompted.


	3. Chapter 3

"Was that a bribe?" Danny asked. He dipped his tongue over his lips, no doubt because he could still taste Scott on them.

Scott's eyebrows quirked up, a whimper pulling at his throat. "Did-did it work?" he asked to cover the sound. His voice broke.

"You know, everyone's been asking me what I know, what I saw, what I remember. It's gotta be the second most popular question." Danny swallowed and his eyes cut back to the spread of sheet that was now less perfectly smoothed. "Everyone's so sure there was something..." he trailed off, his face scrunching in thought. His heart was pounding, and Scott was grateful that the heart monitor had been disconnected that afternoon or nurses would be swarming the room now.

Scott curled and uncurled his fingers, back to trying to grasp at the right words. "We think it was some kind of water monster," he finally said. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to see Danny's reaction or not, and settled on looking at his boyfriend through a hard squint, his head ducked as if to avoid a blow. Really, it was no different than watching the scary scene in a movie through splayed fingers for all that got covered up, and it probably made him look pretty ridiculous. At this point, he didn't care.

Danny smoothed the sheet, tugging at one corner until it lay perfectly flat. Out in the hall, a pair of orderlies walked by, and Scott held his breath until they passed, afraid that another interruption would destroy any chance at this conversation going well. "Did you just say _monster_?" Danny slowly asked.

"Yeah?"

Danny let out a soft exhalation. "That's what I thought you said." He tugged at the other corner of the sheet, then pushed the whole thing back as if he planned to stand up, only he didn't move except to take Scott lightly by the chin and bring his head up until the boys had no choice but to look at each other. "Did you just say _we_?"

Scott nodded.

"If this is some kind of joke..."

"It's not a joke," Scott interrupted. He jumped to his feet, paced two steps away from the bed, then swung around to pace right back. "It's...I didn't know how to tell you because-" He threw his hands up in defeat. "It's my world. The reason you're here is the kind of thing that seems to be freakin' _normal_ in my world. It wasn't supposed to be part of yours, too."

Danny rightfully looked confused. He also looked curious. Scott took that as a positive sign. "What do you mean?"

Scott curled his hands up once more, listening carefully to the activity in the hall. Now would be the absolute worst time for someone, such as his mother, to walk in. All he heard was the usual activity of a hospital catching a few moments of peace between crises; he related far too strongly to that image, and deliberately wanting to destroy it felt like an act of vandalism.

When he let his fingers extend, they were tipped with claws.

It took Danny a second to notice the change. To his credit, his instinctive recoil was barely noticeable.

Scott let his eyes glow and his canines elongate, opening his mouth slightly so that Danny could witness this part of the transformation. He didn't push it further, wanting to save the full shift for a different conversation.

"H-How did you do that?" Danny stuttered. He leaned closer, tilting his head and running his gaze over Scott as if he'd never seen him before.

Scott shifted uncomfortably on his feet and let the transformation fade away. "I'm a werewolf." It was all he could do to stand his ground, not to bolt out of the room in the wake of the confession. Everything else in his life had been sucked into a rule-bending abyss after he'd gotten bitten. Danny was different; he'd stayed mostly unaffected—his head firmly in the real world as most people recognized it—and Scott was coming to realize how important that was to him

Danny ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them. "A … werewolf?" he asked, as if testing out the word for an unusual pronunciation. Off Scott's nod, he continued, "As in full moons and silver bullets and fur all over your body?" Danny mimed the amount of fur he was thinking about with a weird wiggling of his fingers over his arm that made Scott give a snort of amusement.

"Well," Scott replied, forcing his feet to stay flat on the floor, "the full moon part is true."

Danny rubbed his nose, appearing to consider the new information. Scott could feel his own weight shifting back to his toes, the urge to bolt before Danny could reject him building. At last, as if the resolution on a screenful of dots was resolving into a picture for him, Danny asked, "This … has been going on awhile?"

"Yeah," Scott answered, lips twisting through a variety of expressions, unable to find one to land on. "Since the end of winter break."

"And you're telling me this _now_?" Danny asked, a broad sweep of his arms taking in the hospital room and the bed. A bright yellow "get well soon" balloon fluttered above the garden of flower arrangements that had spilled from the table against the wall and onto the floor in front of it, a signifier of how many people were thinking of Danny now, and why they were thinking of him—and Scott's stomach twisted at the thought that this wouldn't be the first time Danny landed in the hospital because of him.

"It couldn't wait." Both of them knew that this was the wrong place and wrong time for revelations of this magnitude; Danny was still pale and lethargic, and no one knew if he was in recovery or remission right now. "I was always going to tell you," Scott explained, the sincerity so raw that it choked him. He rolled his head back, searching for something, he didn't know what, in the rough surface of the room's ceiling. "There's a-a-a _thing_ out there that's after me, maybe because of what I am, and it got to you. We need to know anything, _anything_, you know that can help us find it."

Danny escaped from the sheet, kicking it off him with one sudden move that had Scott flinching backward. Swinging his legs around, Danny scooted so he was sitting off the side of the bed. The mood in the room shifted. It was no longer Scott standing over Danny anymore, needing to be careful of what the weaker person can handle, but the two facing each other, just two guys hanging out. Their eyes were nearly level, which they never were unless they were sitting because Danny was so much taller than Scott. Scott felt instantly more at ease, shoulder muscles that he didn't realize were so tense unclenching.

"Can we back up a second?" Danny asked. He ran tired hands over his face, frowning at the amount of stubble they encountered. "I'm still kinda stuck on the part where you're a-" He stopped, tripped up on the word.

"Werewolf," Scott supplied. "Yeah, it took me awhile to get used to the idea, too."

Danny's brow crinkled in surprise.

"From, like, day one Stiles could toss the word around like it was a-a lacrosse ball during practice." Scott rolled his eyes. "But it wasn't happening to him, you know?"

Danny's surprise faded to something more like sympathy, and his gaze turned inward for a moment as if he were understanding Scott's explanation in a more personal way. The moment held, the sunlight in the room dropping into the blue hour with a noticeable switch that had both boys glancing out the window in case something had crossed in front of it. Then Danny reached out and took Scott's hands, pulling them close, pulling Scott close, so that Scott was standing in the V of Danny's knees. "Show me again," he said.

The warmth from Danny's body heat suffused over Scott and the proximity brought a fresh waft of Danny's scent, unimpeded by the floral stench that otherwise filled the room. Danny's hands on Scott's were tanned and only slightly darker than Scott's. Scott thought it neat how their skin tones gradiated like shades of paint on a swatch; he took a moment to appreciate it, and then to file the memory away just in case.

Scott pressed his lips together, on the one hand thrilled with Danny's calm curiosity; on the other, anxious to get past this step. He let the claws out, his fingernails thickening, darkening, and lengthening into slashing weapons.

"How do you _do_ that?" Danny asked, the disbelief sheer in his voice. "It looked like they just kinda _formed_." He touched the tip of one claw as if to verify that it wasn't an illusion, and pulled back with a slight hiss as it cut his finger.

"Careful. They're sharp."

Danny stuck his injured finger in his mouth and sucked on it. "I see that," he mumbled around the obstruction.

Once again, Scott let the claws melt away. "I don't know how it works," he said. "I'm still trying to figure a lot of it out." The slam of a car door in the parking lot caught his attention; he knew the specifics of that timbre too well now. "Your parents are here," he said, glancing toward the window as if they'd be coming into the room that way.

Danny's brow furrowed as _he _glanced at the room door that was closed and gave every indication of staying that way. "How do you know?"

"Werewolf," Scott replied, simply, tapping his ear. He sighed, weary at the weight of what he'd be asking Danny to believe and accept, and how much he didn't really understand himself. "There's a lot to explain, and I know you have questions."

"Hell yeah."

"I'll answer them … a-as best as I can," he promised. "Just not right now."

"Because of my parents?"

"Because of _everything._" He stumbled over his thoughts, unable to pull them into an order that would make sense while knowing that he had to. How could he be expected to articulate every fear that the last six months of his life had laid bare. Though it was inadequate, he settled on the simple:_ "_Because you've already been hurt once and I can't be responsible for you getting hurt again."

"They're keeping me overnight for observation," Danny pointed out, as if being in the hospital was protection against the kinds of dangers that lurked in Scott's world. For now, Scott had to concede, it was better than nothing.

Scott dragged his hands through his hair. "Your parents are here. We won't be able to talk about … serious things … once they come in the room. Tomorrow, the hospital is going to release you. After you go home, I might not see you for days!"

A smile quirked Danny's lips. "You're going to miss me that bad?"

Scott stilled. "Yes," he replied. Then, throwing his arms up and stepping back with a squeak of rubber sole on vinyl, he continued, "But that's not the point. The monster is going to keep coming and I need to..." He looked away, cutting his eyes to the floor because he wasn't sure how to end that sentence. He had to be prepared to do anything, though he didn't know what he'd be _able _to do.

"To kill it?" Danny supplied. "Is that what you really are, Scott? A killer?"

Scott met Danny's gaze again and let his own eyes burn yellow. "If we can't find another way to stop it, I will," he replied, low and serious. He bit his lip, pushing the wolf side away, and let the brown take over his eyes again. "For as long as you've known me-really known me-I've been a werewolf. I-I didn't tell you everything, but I've never lied to you. Never!" He spread his arms, displaying the very human body of a teenage boy, dressed casually in shorts and a t-shirt for a typical hot summer day, the epitome of normal. "This is who I am." His eyebrow quirked at the assertion, a small yet insistent part of his psyche supplying a different phrase: _This is the skin I live in_. He squashed that voice quickly, refusing to consider that the werewolf part of himself could ever be more than a subordinate part, a facet.

If Danny picked up on the disconnect, he didn't give it away, not in his breathing nor his heartbeat nor his scent. Scott filed that away, too. The werewolf thing was a bigger wrinkle than most relationship problems because it didn't come with much, or any, precedent. If the boys were going to be more than a summer romance-and Scott sincerely hoped they were-they would have to work through all these concerns from the ground up.

Danny scrubbed at his face again, considering. "I never doubted that you'd believe me."

"I know," Scott replied. The Mahealanis had moved to the nurses' station and were listening to the update from the charge nurse, an update that came with a long list of things they needed to be watching for as signs of a potential relapse. Scott fidgeted, wanting Danny to hurry up, but knowing that rushing him would accomplish nothing.

"I thought they would think I was crazy. I couldn't do that to you," Danny continued to explain.

"I know." Scott paused, not sure how far to open the can of worms he'd just finished pressing shut. "There are people who would have believed you. _A lot_ of people."

"Friends?"

"Some of them," Scott replied, just as a better word came to him. "Allies."

Danny slipped off the bed to his feet, standing to his full height, and padded barefoot past Scott to look out the window at the nearly finished sunset. Scott stepped up behind him, an arm going casually around Danny's waist because that's where it belonged. Danny leaned into it and Scott tightened his grip a little more.

"You're going to be surprised by how many people would have listened." He rolled his eyes, not that Danny could see the expression, and added wrly, "_and_ who they are."

"Are they … werewolves … too?" Danny asked, placing the question carefully into the air, like he was giving Scott the option of ignoring it.

Scott listened out into the hall, checking on the Mahealani's progress. From the sound of things, they had stopped at a vending machine, and were now quietly bickering over which overpriced, bad coffee to spend their money on. For people who didn't normally drink it, they took their hospital coffee surprisingly seriously. A part of him wondered if they should be let in on the darkness, too. But, he'd leave that up to Danny, who was trying so hard to understand and who had so much to learn—a lot of which was going to test more of his relationships than the one with Scott. For now, Scott decided to err on the side of vagueness. "Some of them," he answered.

Before he could apologize for sidestepping the question, movement on the far side of the parking lot caught Scott's attention. He zeroed in on it, Danny's attention not far behind. The streetlamps planted around the perimeter of the lot were still warming up for the night, their buzzing loud to Scott's ears. At the edge of one, where the darkness would start when night finished falling, stood a figure. Allison. Her black hair was twisted back out of her face, and she wore loose shorts and a shirt that looked casual but would keep her movements unimpeded. Tucked against the base of a nearby tree was her crossbow. She scanned the street, as if searching for a car to separate itself from the flow of traffic, just a girl waiting for her ride-if anyone bothered to think about her that much.

Danny chewed on his lip while he watched her. "Allison's standing outside," he said, as if couldn't trust what he was seeing.

"She came to visit you yesterday," Scott replied softly, pressing closer so that his jaw rested partially on Danny's shoulder.

"Does that mean…" Danny trailed off, seemed to reconsider what he was going to ask. Allison had moved to lean against the tree. While they watched, she pulled her phone from her pocket, sent a brief text, then put it back. "Is she … on our side?"

It was a superficially simple sentence. Yet it wasn't. Scott swallowed hard at the choice of words, at what Danny had asked without saying. Everyone who knew about Scott-and-Danny had questions about Scott-and-Allison; he couldn't expect Danny to be the only one who didn't. Scott had to clear his throat to answer. "Yes." He made a mental note to explain about the hunters, and to explain what it was the hunters usually hunted—And why he and Allison were no longer dating, and how they'd built a tentative truce despite that. If Danny wanted to know more than that, he'd tell him that too.

For now, the _yes _must have been the answer Danny wanted. He nodded, his acceptance so easy that it left Scott off-balance. Pursing his lips, Danny composed his thoughts, then started: "So, about what I saw..."

END

A/N: Sorry, guys. The monster was a Macguffin. It was always a Macguffin. There needed to be a reason for Scott to tell, and that's what it was.


End file.
